


needle and thread

by simplyclockwork



Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Doctor John Watson, Gen, Sherlock is a Brat, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: Prompted by @macgyvershe on tumblr from the prompt: "I trust you"
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528859
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	needle and thread

**Author's Note:**

> Supposed to be a drabble (which are generally max 100 words) but it's a little longer

Sherlock has never liked being fussed over. This makes having to go to the hospital an absolute hell, one he refuses whenever possible. When a wayward suspect slashes a knife at him, cutting into the skin above and below his eye before John subdues the man, such a trip seems inevitable. Blood runs down his face and drips from his chin in rivulets, and John tries to shove him into the back of a waiting ambulance. 

“ _No,_ John!” Sherlock snarls, lunging out of the shorter man’s arms to tumble away from the paramedics. John plants his hands against his hips, raises his head to the sky in a silent prayer for patience, and sighs.

“Fine, you bloody madman,” he finally concedes, dragging Sherlock up off the ground. “I’ll do it.” He waves off the paramedics and all but drags Sherlock to a cab. 

The ride is silent, John thrumming with angry energy and Sherlock shifting nervously against the seat. When they arrive at 221B, John’s fists are clenched, and Sherlock feels like he might crawl out of his skin as blood dries on his face. 

“Sit down,” John commands when they reach the sitting room, pointing Sherlock toward the sofa. The detective sinks down, narrowing his eyes at John as he approaches with a medkit in hand. The army doctor kneels down between Sherlock’s legs and stares at him. “Are you going to be a dick about this?” He asks, squinting at the detective.

Sherlock shakes his head, fingers drumming against the sofa cushion. He forces himself to go still and blinks beneath John’s stare. 

“No,” he says, low voice rumbling through the space between them. “I trust you.”

John pauses, then his lips curl in a small smile. 

Sherlock winces as John cleans the cut and begins suturing the wound closed. But John’s hands are gentle and confident, and Sherlock relaxes enough to close his eyes under John’s competent care. The pull of the thread and needle stings, but Sherlock sits still, trusting in his doctor. 


End file.
